Wintertime
by Gaze of Providence
Summary: "When the man turned to look, he saw from the rock, a young woman bathing in the waters. She had the height of a girl, but all the qualities of a woman..."-Follow the secret history of Kihara Kagun, as he tries to search for magic, despite the cold land of the North, evil winds, vile wolves, dark drakes, and a haughty Dvergr, as he realizes its true and terrific nature.
1. Chapter 1

**Wintertime **

**Chapter 1: The North**

I do not know if this story has truly come to pass in exactly the manner in which universe amongst the countless ones this story should supposedly take place. I do not know if what I am telling is of truth. It may in part or the whole, be fabrication, nevertheless, this story should be told.

My soul is weary and my heart is broken by the world, and I know, that you, dear reader, that have grown tired of the countless facsimiles of the same tales and of the same heroes, old or new, being told and told over again in countless eras, and in many different mediums. Indeed, this tale if shown to a judging eye is a derivation of many other countless stories, but again, and I shall say it now matter how many times it need be, this story should be told, not because it is a derivative, not because it holds some fascinating characters, story, or world—indeed this world has been reused by countless other lesser weavers of tales—but because this tale rings dear to my heart. It screams and it pounds ceaselessly, day and night, as it yearns for the story to be put down, born out of the long count of tired years.

This story is not of the protracted and unending battle between good and evil, nor is it a tale between the struggle of three heroes, nor of two sides, nor the people who argue on and on about two sides of the same coin. This tale is simply a tale of two people. It is not known which day or month it was, but what can be assured that it was before the Great War in the cold East. Our story opens in a similarly cold place in the North, where thunder and lightning ride the clouds and roll upon the mountains, where cold air turns rivers to bridges, and where winds blow away the creations of Nature and Men alike, where Wintertime seemed harsher, and where Spring was even the more sweeter than all others in the world. T'was this place where the common stories of lore was born, and where our story begins.

One Wintertime, there was a man from an island in the East who once dwelt in a Great City of White. He, like many others of his race, was of black hair, and complexion. But he was lean and tall, and had strong body, and his face showed a hidden fierceness in them, and for good reason. It was because he left the White City, for it gave him great distress. There was once was a woman, not a lover, but more like blood. They shared the same family, and had great intellect far above any normal Men, but this where their similarities end. For though the man used his great mind for the benefit of the living and the nurturing of children, the woman and the many, if not all of his family, used theirs for what any normal Men might call Evil. Malice born out of their mind, their very nature was to stretch the limits of the human Mind and of decency, and it is in their very nature to do anything that would reap the most Evil. Perhaps it was not the City he was running from, but from himself, though only he can answer this question. He had done good apart from his family, and it maybe the very reason for the woman's scorn upon him, forcing him to do an evil act in order to do good, it maybe the very reason for his fall, a fall that he himself choose to do. For even if he was hailed as a savior, he still chose evil, a deed he can never forgive even if it was himself. And so he fell, and the man planned to revenge against the woman. But he knew he could not beat her in the way he wanted to. And so, the man travelled the World over for the power that would allow him too. He travelled and travelled and had come upon the North, where Wintertime was at her fiercest.

There were talks among the locals that a legendary being with wealth and power beyond their knowing laid deep in the mountains, still searching for gold. And so he went to see the being, despite the locals protest, for they do not want the being to put a curse on them for leading an outsider to the being, rather than genuine concern for the man's life. But the man cared not for their concerns, and in the cover of twilight, left the village, as the storm has passed for now, and his life was in danger, and he did not care to take another other than the woman whom he seek to revenge. And so he left. A fool he was, but a brave fool nonetheless, and his Mind made up for what he lacked, especially strength against the cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Hag**

The light snow bathed him but never blanketed the man, for he kept moving in a quick pace. But Wintertime quickly outpaced him, and all his knowledge and all of his skill is helpless against him. And so he searched for shelter, but all before him was the whiteness of the ground, the wisps of the snow being blown by the wind, and the grey skies of Wintertime. Now the twilight was nearly upon him, and there was no shelter to be found. He came into the dead wood, whose still and lifeless bodies hung as gloomy pillars for Wintertime's clouded skies. There, he heard baying of wolves. It was a war horn, and it's bellowing soon followed by howling winds that battered his body, and would soon take up his feet from the ground. He was blinded by the storm, and his feet moved on its own to avoid it. The man knew that if had allowed the wind to continue on, then his fate would be sealed, and Wintertime would capture him into her cold and unending touch. Just then, the man noticed a flicker of light, and gave strength back to his feet, for there was not time left before he falls before the might of the wind. As he flew towards the light, the man looked back and saw that the wind seemed to follow him. He knew not how it was, for even he, one of the great minds of the White City, could not explain it. And so, without much choice in the matter, he kept on flying along, as if being chased as a wild animal. He in between the trunks of the dead trees of the wood and swirled around them, as a feeble hare would do when chased by a wolf in the wood. And when he looked back it again, he felt that it worked, for he had greatly outpaced the queer draught. There was no way he could explain this, only his belief that he had done something.

The man came near to the light, and came upon an old wooden shack. There were lights in the cottage, and the silhouette moving around betrayed the presence of a living soul. Without much hesitation, the man knocked and knocked upon the door, where strange markings have been carved upon every plank, believing that the wind will not cease pursuit.

The door then opened, and before him stood an ugly hag, but the man cared not for he was not vain, and there were much more pressing matters. The hag was aware of the man's plight, and took him into her shack. The man breathed a sigh, and sat down upon one of the chairs the hag offered him. He took off his coat as there were a fire in hearth, where a big cauldron where a wonderful scent wafted from. As the calmed down, the wind wailed even louder outside, and seemed to circle around the shack for an immemorial amount time. As it waned, from the distance they heard the baying and growling of wolves, fading into the oblivion of the night. With all the commotion over, the man thanked the hag for his help.

However, the hag said, "Do not thank me yet," showing her ugly teeth as she looked upon the cauldron with her ladle. "Who are you, and why does a man with such strange attire come this far into the North."

"I am just a man from the East, and I only intend in expanding my horizons Madame," said the man, "For I am man of science, and it is only in my nature."

Silence fell, and the woman narrowed her eyes, taking a jug and pouring a spirit into a cup. "No one with fierce eyes such as yours would ever come this far for the sake of something of such nobility. I will ask of you again."

The hag then offered the cup with the liquid in it to the man. The man did not want to insult his host, took the cup and drank it one gulp. Yet, he also did not want to reveal his true intentions, for no ordinary folk would want a man who seeks vengeance in their own home. So, the man said his lies once again to the hag, and as the hag narrowed her eyes at him, a fire ignited in his throat. It was like hot metal being poured from inside of him. Never before has any spirit prompted such effect on him. The man grabbed his chest because of the pain, but looked upon the hag with his fierce eyes.

The hag then said, "I will ask you again," and poured another cup from the same jug. "Deceive and be burned in flames, or tell the truth and feel no shame. First tell me your name," said the woman, offering him the cup of the same spirit.

As the man's countenance can no longer hold dignity, the man touched the cup, whose liquid was no longer of the same hue. Seeing this, he drank it once again in one gulp. But his body was worn to the very brink by this event, and fell to the floor. Before Sleep took him into the land of dreams, the man whose fierce eyes were now tamed said to the hag, "My name is Kihara Kagun, and I seek magic." And he fell asleep before the warmth of the crackling fire of the hag's hearth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Full Moon**

The man stayed in the old shack to earn his keep, and he did what he was told, for the hag, despite her appearance, gave him good bed and food. But he was not told to go outside even during the day, and even if he wanted, great runes that were carved into the wood stayed him in place, something he could only deem as magic. While he was alone during the day as the hag went to search for hares and berries, he came upon a book of old tales and heroes, and upon it was a tale of a man named Bersi and his sword, Whitting, and kept into memory after many readings, for the days seemed long and it was the only thing that kept his mind from the howling of the winds and the baying of wolves from afar.

One day, three days before the moon is halved because of its wane, the man came once again to that old tome, and after reading of tales of great battles and heroes, had turned its leaves without a thought, and from its pages, a parchment fell. There was a image upon it, of a woman of beauty and allure beyond any he has ever seen. Even if it was an image, the man felt his heart yearn for her beauty as if it was a summer flower in the middle of Wintertime. But it was just an image, and the man did not want his to get attached to something as petty as an image. But this was not gone unnoticed, and the man turned to his side to see that the hag has returned without him noticing.

"Has the woman taken your heart like all the other men who have gazed upon her as well?" said the hag with her basket full of berries.

"Does it matter if I said it? For you can tell that what my intentions are," said the man.

"It does, for those who cannot say harsh truths do not know much about themselves at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Your fierce eyes betray your heart. I know what you seek, and it is not magic. For you, magic is but a means to an end, not a way of life. It is a folly of Men to think that magic is but a tool and not something to be respected."

With his countenance lightened, the man said, "Are you the being the villagers were talking about?"

The woman did not answer his question. "I am person, but I am also another thing altogether. All this talk about magic is not well for us, at this time. Come, prepare the table, and get the wine in the back, and I shall prepare supper. The wolf winds will be strong tonight, for it is their last night until the next moon."

And so the man came upon the jug of wine, but also saw another jug put upon a corner of the room in the back. Seeing the liquid inside of it was the same one he drank the other night, and when fire burned inside him when he drank it, and then Sleep, when he drank it the second time. At that moment, the liquid looked like ordinary spirit, not with the strange color it had when the hag offered it to him. But his mind wandered, and his thoughts went back to the hag's question, and he felt uneasy about it. The man then looked at the jug again, and saw that the liquid has turned a different color. The man became curious, and left his hands from the jug, and the liquid turned to normal again. He then breathed in deep, and touched it again, this time, thinking of the hag's question, and confronting it. Yes, the woman in the picture did indeed move his heart. And then, the liquid changed color. Seeing this, the man took that the jug instead to the table, and poured two cups from the normal jug and put it with the plates.

The soup tonight was hare, the same it was when he first came to visit. And it was delicious, and warmth filled his cheeks and bowels. As supper ended with them eating sweet berries, and drinking from their cups, the man talked with the hag, the first time since supper began.

"Can you teach me magic?" said the man. The hag heard of it, emptied her cup, and asked the man to pour liquid from the jug into it.

"I cannot," said the hag, "For I can only cast magic. I do not have the skill nor ability to pass the knowledge down to others. I can only do what has been shown to me. I cannot gather thunderbolts, nor make new runes. I cannot enchant weapons, nor break them asunder. I cannot give fortune, nor give misfortune upon others. I am a hag, but I am no witch, the people of the village may think me as such, but I have not done them harm. They do not know me; they do not know who I am. But I have allowed them to put me in this position. I have used their fear of not knowing the truth for their own protection, for the wood is not for common folk, and for my own, as I must do no harm to them, for I shan't ever fall as low as the Men of the village."

"Can you tell me if the being in the cave in the mountains can teach me magic?"

"Yes," said the hag, "For the being's heart is easy to sway as a child, but the being is as cruel as one. In the farther North lied a vast lake whither the Wintertime has made into fine solid, and you must cross it in swift pace, for the place is full of deceit, and one false step shall cast you into the withered hands of Wintertime. But that is not the only danger, for you have heard of wolves, and they are lead by a pale one whose rage is like fire. And even if you pass the gauntlet of the valley beyond this wood, the mountains cave whither the being lied is guarded by a drake, what it does, never can I tell, but sometimes when the wolves do not howl, the serpent hiss from the depths of that mountain."

The man did not speak, but his face remained grim. He stood up from his chair and began reaching for his possessions, taking a dagger from the table, but the hag did not protest. She narrowed her eyes, and drank the spirit.

"I see what you have done," said the hag, looking at the cup of the spirit, where the man poured that strange liquid a moment ago. "I do not want to let you go for fear of your safety. Despite my appearance, what is left from my past is still with me."

The man, did not speak, and stopped his movements to hear the hag. "You are too hasty. Wait for the moon to wane from being full, for the wolves will come at you like thunder."

The man shook his head, and spoke, "I cannot, for my heart is restless and uneasy. The power I seek is nearly within reach."

The hag smiled, and started giggling. "Power? What do you know about power? You came from that City, where children are allowed to wield power like a toy. They remain children, but their childhood has been taken away. They can no longer live their lives like children without the burden of that power they hold. This is what magic shall bring to you, what it has brought to me as well. Magic shall make you pay your debt, no matter what heavy baggage or dear things your heart holds. It shall come like the wind against the casement of your bedroom, and will not be stayed from opening it."

"Hag are you?"

"Yes, it is what exactly you suspect. Many moons have passed since I have come to that being for help, and I have paid the price in full, living life alone in the wood where wolves with flames in their hearts dwell, for all beasts fear me, and all Men shall fear if they are blessed under the light of the gods of the north. When you come to that being, and the being has given you magic, I shall be truly alone, for your heart will be filled with fear." With that, the hag's head laid down upon the table, as if a heavy weight was pressed upon her. "This drink is fire. When you drink it full of doubt, it will burn you as if it shall turn you to ash, it will not keep you to sleep; if you drink it and you are aware of your doubts, it will put you to sleep if your will is not strong enough; and if you drink it without a thought, then it can only do as much harm as any other spirit. It is like fire, so if put upon flame, the spirit will burn faster and grander than an oil soaked rag. Take it, it may become useful soon." And the man did take the jug, and poured its contents into a leather pouch.

"Who did this to you hag? Why?" said the man.

"I did it, but it is the magic of the being in the cave in the mountains, a dwarf of old, which fulfilled my terrible wish. As for the reason? What has your heart whispered to you when you saw that image? When I was in that village all Men have knowledge of me, whether or liked it or not. One day, my I shall stop fueling the fires of my self-hatred and I shall cast it upon them, and they shall turn to ash and the snow will bury them from memory on this good earth."

The woman looked at the man's face. "What is it?" said the man.

"I see it in your eyes that you are like me. Magic shall not give a moment's peace, and shall give strength to the very emotion that drove you here. But I see that you are also a kind man. Take note of how many eyes shall grieve when you fall into the path that your hatred powered magic shall bring you to."

With that, the pained woman poured another cup from that jug and drank from it, and lied on the table. "I shall delay the wolves with my charms for a small while. I will have told you time and time again to wait, by your spirit is restless."

"Thank you, kind Madame," said the man, and bowed to her in the way of the people in the Far East. The man opened the door, and the cold winds blew into the shack, making the fire in the hearth sputter. From afar, a moon, though waning, can still be called full.

Before the man could take a step out of the door, the hag talked to him again. "It is like in those old times. You are going to leave like all the other Men who have knowledge of me."

The man did not turn his back, and spoke to her. "I do not know you," and left the shack, closing the door of the poor and ugly hag.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Hour of Wolves**

Outside, the Witching Hour was upon the man; as if the time skipped the moment he closed the shack's door. As the man walked down the path from the shack in the wood, he heard the branches creak as the wolves' wind, and the baying beasts were not far behind. The man took the dagger from his bag, and quickened his pace. The wind will outpace him, but he can confuse them like before. And the man moved in between the dead trees of Wintertime, and the Wind with its claws followed his trail, as if all the winds in the earth was the body of this world-serpent. But he could not do this ever until the break of dawn, where the moon shall pass from the sky and show only the colors of the aged blanket of Wintertime. So, as soon as the wolves' wind slowed down as it tried to move around the trees, the man took the dagger in his hand and carved the runes that he had put into memory in the hag's shack upon each tree he passed by. He doubled back to the path he was before, and saw the Wintertime wind bewildered by this movement. As the wind whirled and coiled upon its own clear body, he and once again carved upon the dead trees of the forest. He knew not how it worked, but alone he knew that it affected the winds and the wolves that heralded it.

After finishing his deed, the man looked upon the center of his work and saw that the living gale has turned itself into a whirling serpent, a whirlwind. It was a wild serpent trapped in a cage, and in wild defiance to its better, tried to escape its fate. Higher and higher did not winds went, taking with it the snow, earth, and nature, but soon, its power faded before it could even clear away from the dead trees of the wood, and then the snow fell back again to the ground like normal, powerless against the lesser winds of Wintertime.

Then he heard it from the distance, the baying and howling of the wolves again. They were much fiercer than before, perhaps knowing of the fate of the serpent that came before them. The man ran, knowing that the wolves were more cunning than the demon wind that had chased them, and that they were wont in this wooded part of Hel, than he and even maybe the hag as well. As he ran, the growling seemed to even become a whisper in his ear, and the man feared that he would be felled by the beasts. He took up his arm once again, and gripped it tight as he flew from the wood towards the barren plane that is close-by. Then, a queer sound reached his ears. The baying and howling stopped, and the whisper was gone, all that is left was the whining of the wolves, as if their master has come and struck them down. The man stopped to make his hearing clearer, and despite the wind, he could hear it clear. The wolves were broken in spirit. At first, the man knew not what had happened, but then remembered what the hag told him. It seemed that even his rude departure did not sway the hag from her oath. Then, there was a silence, and no longer was there a sound of wolves.

With that over, the man began to walk again in his own pace. There was no danger, and the snow and the wind was not a concern. However, as he walked towards that vast and empty plane where the misty mountains from afar are in full view, a growl came from his behind. The man turned towards the growling, and before him was a wolf, its eyes were like torches in the night, its size were greater than any normal man, and his fur, rugged and untamed, was as pale as that of the moon. The wolf bared its yellow teeth, and all the runes that were scratched upon the dead wood burned. At that moment, the man ran for dear life, and the wolf followed suit, slowing down only because of the runes that were carved, but this too did not last. As the man reached the plane, only now did he realize his folly. There was nowhere to hide it the barren plane, where only the white ground grows from the falling of snow from the sky, and a solitary rock in the middle. There were no trees to climb into, and wait for the passing of the Sun over the Eastern horizon. But the man did not have time to worry of such things, for he only thought of the wolf and running.

Once again, he heard the growling as if it was next to him. He did not dare to look, for he thought that he might seal his own doom. But he was losing his breath, and his limbs began to tire for all the running he has done in the night. He gripped his dagger tight once again, and ran with all the might in his body towards the single solitary rock in the field, for he thought that he might collect himself there, and since it was high ground, he might at least put up one last stand against an enemy whose unfettered fury and power he can ever hope to defeat.

The man went up to the rock with his knife, and steeled himself, for the charge of the wolf was faster than the charge of any mortal arrow. Then the beast leapt up to him in a single bound, but there was a sudden flash and the sound of roaring, and the man could not see from any direction. Then, he fell into darkness, and the growling of the great wolf did not follow him there. He breathed in the cool wind brought by his fall, and he had once again fallen into the arms of Sleep uninvited. But he did not know if he was to stay ever with her embrace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: The Drake**

When he came to, the man found himself lying on the ground of a cold and lightless place, where the stagnant air had with it a foul stench like burning. Yet, never in his mind did the thought of him being the presence of Hel come to pass, as he was a great wise man in the White City, and he studied the realm of Death more than any other of his peers, who rather ponder on touching the realm of the gods. And so he stood, still gripping his dagger, and began walking blindly, using the damn wall of the cave as his guide. Then, a dim orange light flickered far off at the end of the tunnel, and the man's pace began to quicken, still touching the wall for he could not trust his eyes to the dim light. And yet, as he drew closer to the light, the air grew thicker and fouler, the walls became softer and wetter. He knew not what was going on, and began to think using all the knowledge he had gathered from his days in the White City. Then, the ground rumble underneath him, and the man fell to wet floor, where the water was thicker and fouler than mud. As he tried to stand up, the foul air began to rush towards him in a powerful draught, knocking him down again to his back. The air was fouler than before, its smell took the strength from him, and he lied there with the man, still gripping that lone dagger.

Even before the man could think of what was going on, the orange light from afar flickered and then grew bigger, as if it went closer. Seeing this, the man tried to stand up once again in spite of the foul stench. However, he was yet interrupted again, but this time, a voice. The voice was deep and horrid like the bubbling of the murky deep of a fen, and every sound made the light flicker, and the air move. The man, began to sweat even though he was in the North, and then knew the danger that he has come upon.

The voice laughed again, and told the man, "It seems that it is known to you where you are," and the orange light flickered, and the air moved at its voice. "I feel the fear from everything you do. If it helps to soothe your nerves, I allow you to ask me a question."

The man knew not what to do, for he did not know that he would fall into the drake that the hag warned of him a night ago. The man stood up, and pondered until he was interrupted again by the voice.

"Do not make me wait, for every moment that passes by prolongs the moment where I feast on you."

The man was astonished, for in that foul air, his mind wandered too much, and had forgotten its old self. The man then bit his lip until it bled, but not enough for it to touch the watery ground, for he knew that it would give the voice a taste of his person. And what he did sobered him a little, and the man had thought up of a question the voice would take long to answer, for he has yet to come up a way from escaping the cave.

"Great voice of the cave, I have come for magic, and when I have come upon, I have felt that the nature of your person, for you are the essence yourself. The men from the outside told me of a great drake that guards this cave. May I know if you are the one they speak of that guards the gold of the dwarf?" said the man, as he recalled the tales of the beasts in the hag's book.

The air rushed again, and the orange light grew great, as the voice began to speak. "What your tone, whelp, for I do not like the mention of that dwarf. Indeed, I am the drake-guardian of this cave, for many a gold and treasure has been kept here by the dwarf for many uncounted years. But the dwarf has left into the deeper mountains, so it is mine now. So you seek magic? What can a alien folk like do with such a thing? A foolish folk, to fall into the mouth of a drake perhaps?"

"Indeed, foolish I am, for I seek vengeance, and I am in need of magic great drake, for all other powers in the earth cannot give me what I desire. I did not come for your gold, for I have come for the dwarf, whom they say has power beyond their knowing, and I would like to know the secrets of magic," said the man.

"What a foolish quest, the dwarf will not teach you magic for dwarves are stubborn folk. Did you not know this?" said the drake.

Now, the man had prolonged the time, but he knew that the drake would not forget easy that he could eat the man as soon as he tires of talking in circles, and yet the man could not figure a way to escape, for everywhere he looked was blackened spaces of the drake-throat. With not much to do, the man spoke again. "I did not know that, but mayhap I can change the dwarf's mind. Where in the mountain is the dwarf Great Drake of the dark cave?"

"Deep in the mountains, carving out jewels and smithing better tools for his dying race," said the drake. He laughed and the cave shook, the wind whirled, and the orange light grew fiercer. And the man almost fell to his knees. "I'm supposing you would want to find this stubborn dwarf. Ha! Men are as stubborn as the small folk, I see."

"Yes, for I am a man who would like to see the face of the one who shall reject him. Alas! I am in you Great Drake, and I cannot do the task myself, can you take me to the dwarf deep in the mountains?"

The drake growled, and the air in the cave rushed again, and the orange light grew fierce. "What am I too you, whelp, your horse? I will not take you to the dwarf, and you will stay here in me forever. Do you understand?"

The man grew weary, for he did not know what to do. He was trapped, at his back were the rock-like teeth of the beast, and to his front was the fiery chasm of his throat. He was angry, for it would seemed that this was the last part of his journey, and his vengeance will never be his. His mind was filled, then, by the face of that woman who had wronged him long ago in that White City. Many time he prepared to revenge her in that City, but soon saw it would not allow him, and so he had somehow come here after a long journey.

In that dim place, only her pale face and black eyes remained clear in his mind.

"Then what would you have me do Great Drake," said the man with much anger. "I have searched long and hard for magic, and to end up here, a terrible end in any way one looks."

"This is your fate. Perhaps the gods were unkind. Unkind enough to have me live long enough to see these days of thunder and steel, where evil wolves roam the North carrying their serpent winds. It is better to accept your fate, for there are many storms the living cannot weather, and fighting will only make great the pain one has already endured?" said the drake.

"Accept fate? Why would you tell me this, forever have you lived here against the shadow of Time? The age of the dragons, the wyrms, the serpents, and the drakes has ended many immemorial years ago. Your time is over, go back, and release me, drake, for I have urgent business to do. Or would it surprise you for me to say that you are like Fafner, and is the dwarf the village-folk speak of, turning into a drake after much greed has taken away the mind?"

One does not taunt a dragon. And it was foolish for him to say that, as he was inside him. There was silence, but then, the man caught fury. The cave rumbled as if it were to fall upon him, the stench became thicker, and the draft faster, and the orange light became a great burning fire, that came close to touching his face with his feet. The man staggered and fell to the floor, as a roar filled the cave, the murky voice of the drake started.

"Silence you foolish whelp! You are merely a man caught in the awful thread of fate, unable to move a finger! Pitiful being, who do you think you are? Mocking me? Telling me that I am like that false wyrm that is Fafner? Do you know of who I am? I am the Great Drake of the Tunnels, and long have I wandered this earth before you. In the land of Vinland, the red people call me Tonrarsubluar, the Angles call me Dwimorgristbitian, and the Frisians call me Nentoth. And who I am to the old gods of the North? I am Fláráðrsormr Gullgaeta of the Blárungrfljóð. Prepare yourself foolish whelp, for I shall visit upon you a fury that shall char you even in the depths of the Abode of the Mist. Who do you think you are?"

The man stood up again, and took the leather pouch where the fiery liquid the hag gave him was contained, and opened it. He poured a little on the dagger. He also spilled a little upon the ground, but it had no effect on the drake. But this was not his intention.

"Who I am, drake? I shall answer your question by answering one of the many questions you have said… I do not care who you are, and how many people and how many nations of Men have known you or your name. I do not care, because all your names are false, as false as your claims, and as false as the darkness that I am in. Now, I shall answer you, Drake," the man took a matchbox from his bag, lighted a match, and began speaking again.

"Can you hear me, Drake?" said the man, as he lighted the spirit upon his dagger, giving it a strong flame that made the lighted the small area where he was in. "I am Bersi, I seek magic for I seek vengeance. Stay me from my path and I shall visit upon you a fury that shall char you even in the depths of the Abode of the Mist. Stay me from my vengeance and I shall come back, again, and again, until I have fulfilled my deed, for I know Death, and once of us shall meet him today."

At that moment, the man stabbed the flaming dagger upon the spot where he drenched the spirit, and caught fire, and the cave shook, the foul winds whirled, and the orange flames of his fire came ever closer to him enough to singe his hair. The man did not stop despite of this, and stabbed the spot, again, and again, as the fire took the oily waters as its own. The cave gave a horrible shriek, as it seemed the drake has yet to feel in his life any other strange fire in him to cause him pain, or mayhap any pain at all since the countless days of his life.

The man stabbed again and again, as the fire overtook the oily waters of the cave. But he has reached his limit, the stench has weakened him, and the heat of his fire and that of the drake's casted a malady upon him, and as he once again fell back into the familiar hands of Sleep, he smirked and stabbed the soft ground, which made the drake shriek greater than ever before. And the man fell, as if it was his last days, with his sad smile still draw upon his face, as if all that he ever wanted to do was beyond his reach.

A bright light came from what would have been the drake's throat, engulfed the cave, and the man that fought and seemed to have lost. And when the light faded, all that was left of the drake was a queer memory, for the man was in a cave, where the walls were painted with innumerable runes, and the ground was as soft as the grounds around a fen, and the stench was from the many dead that was felled by the drake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Black Child**

In dreamlands, Sleep told him of a story of his past, not so long ago. In the Dark Continent, where the sands gather, and the Sun is lord of all, the man bartered and sold machines and arms for the sake of his vengeance, there were tales of a man who looked like one of the kings of old, when the pyramids still shone bright and still seen from afar with its head of gold, carrying strange things with him and performing tricks that were like magic. But the man at first did not care for foolish folk tales as he was seeking for power that would allow him to gain his vengeance. But one night, the winds of the cool desert blew to the sound of queer pipings of unknowable places, scaring the animals and the bearded men in their robes away, as they screamed that the man of ancient kings has come. When the man came out of his to see, he saw that the man had bronze skin, taller and leaner than any man he has seen, and wore flowing robes, where jewels that one could find in the hoard of a drake or of the mines of a dwarf encrusted it, stitched into the cloth. The bronze man had strange instruments and performed strange things with it, far too strange and terrific to be put into words, save that the man was awestruck by it. And there, the man knew and believed that there were powers that the wise men of the White City did not know. "It is magic," the bronze man said. And he came closer to the man and told of him that he can claim it for his own in the far North, where the rain becomes as the look of pebbles but are soft as tallow. Before the bronze man left he told him of his name, it was Alzhf Alfwda, a strange moniker for a strange person. He was away before the man knew what had happened; the man disappeared in a gust of wind as he had appeared, as if he only came to give him that knowledge that magic is real.

The man woke up, remembering how he came to be here, at the dark and bleak path of his quest, surrounded by strange things he could not understand. But still, the man pressed on forwards into the cave, into the yellow light from afar that seemed to give a presence of warmth and a touch of comfort. When he got there, steam covered the place, but soon knew what it hid from him. It was a large room, where the rocky walls were covered with yet untouched gold and silver. And yet, upon the bare rock where no precious metal lied, it still shone, as upon the floor lied many gold and silver things, from coins, bangles, rings, and goblets, and upon them where precious gems of diamond, moonstone, golden beryl, garnet, and sunstone, reflecting the light of the flambeaus affixed upon the walls, giving the place a hue of a rare golden dawn. Upon the ground was grass that seemed to have live out the cold Wintertime, remaining evergreen, with shrubs here and there, with there flowers still moist, like rhododendrons, heathers of white and lavender colors, and gardenias. Large rocks covered in moss were around the place, a testament to the fact that the room was still part of the cave deep in the mountains. In the middle of the room was a small hot spring, where a small waterfall poured from an upper level.

At first, the man thought he was alone, for the mist and the shining of the treasures filled his eyes, and the sound of the rushing water filled his ears, but then, he heard something near in the waterfall. The man then went behind one of the large rocks behind it. There, he found the garments for those who mined and plowed deep into the earth, a coat for the Wintertime, all fit for young person. What's more, there were large golden earrings, and two golden hair bands. There were for a maiden, and it confused the man, for he did not know what a girl would be doing these deep in the mountains. He made a suspicion, and it was then proven as he heard a voice humming in the waterfall.

When the man turned to look, he saw from the rock, a young woman bathing in the waters. She had the height of a girl, but all the qualities of a woman. She was not clothed, for the man could see every part of her body in full view. And her skin was that of bronze, and her of silver, and her eyes of gold, and arms and legs firm yet soft, as if her body was wrought from the very treasures of the deep mountain with Freyja's care. For though, there were signs of work, her beauty tarnished not. The girl then dove under the waters and then swam back up flipping up her hair, and showed to the man the girl's face. And here, the man's gaze was fixed at the girl, and had it been not for the face of the woman that led him to this path in the first place, did the man turn from the gaze. He took the golden hair bands, for the man knew she was the dwarf the villagers speak of, and that she was magic. He took the bands because of old tales of men coming upon bathing women who are of magic, and binding them into their will, and the man hoped that he could make her teach him of the ways of magic.

However, his hands were stayed, when he heard that the humming stopped. And then he heard the maiden's voice singing.

_Where now are the green fields of Spring?_

_I waited long for what she brings._

_Where now have all the magic gone,_

_And wonders promised and held on?_

_Both have strayed from my hands and sight,_

_Like kin, who long ago took flight,_

_And the memories they've taken._

_What is left when I awaken?_

_ The days, they now fare strange to me,_

_For magic has lost her old glee._

_Used by fools for their own poor tales,_

_Gone its splendor like passing gale._

_Now the years have gone and passed by_

_And all things still share the same sky._

_But the fond things that I'm in wont,_

_In this world, she no longer haunts._

_Magic gave golden fields in Spring,_

_Where now have they gone with her wings?_

_Where now have all the magic gone?_

_Only lost wonders, dreams, and songs?_

Her lament was over, but her eyes remained with a deep sadness that made the man forget what he was after. Her eyes shimmered with the gold of the cave and the reflection of the water, making her seem like every part of her was magic. And she was, at that moment for that man, for he did not know it, but her eyes drew the sadness that was in his, whose lamentations could never be forever hid. And the man longed for comfort, and she too seemed to desire it. But this was only for a moment, like the raining in the mountains, for the man once again recalled why he was here. But the man held the golden hair rings tight, not because he did not want to lose it, but because there was hesitation in his mind. Yet, it was too late for the man, for he was noticed.

"I know that you are there, Bersi the avenger. Come up from that rock, lest I shall have to force you up myself. Do not underestimate me by my looks, for I have weathered on this earth far longer than you have," said the woman.

With not much else choice, the man came away from the rock, but has forgotten to hide the hair rings that he had stolen, for he gaze long at the woman's body instead of her eyes. The woman saw this and said, "Unashamed at looking at a woman still uncovered I see."

The man quickly remembered, and glowered at the girl, seeing her cunning could be a danger to him.

"Only now have you gained apprehension? You fool, one should know better than to steel from a Dvergr, especially from the likes of me, for I am Marian Slingeneyer, the Blárungrfljóð, as conjurers of the East would call my people, descendant of Mótsognir. I am a miner, a tool smith, but most of all I am body molder, beware human, for I can wrought you in any shape as I see fit. Steeling me and looking at a maiden's body? That is a fell deed worthy of me turning you into a necklace in your memory. What say you?" Said the woman, moving about, uncaring for what the man could see, despite her words.

"I cannot say anything profound to you Miss Slingeneyer," he said. "You know my name and my purpose; I presume you can guess what my reply would be to your threats?"

"Ah yes, the avenger, the seeker of magic and vengeance. You have a hard head, which seemed to have helped you get at this point, falling from a far height, and not allowing my illusory drake to subdue you. But you also have a dumb head. You have given your true name to the hag, even though she knows not of the deeper ways of magic. In magic, your true name can be used in a myriad of ways, in good and in bad. Also, you looked upon me in this manner, and confused me with Valkyries and swan maiden, as you have stolen my hair rings that bound my hair. I have many treasures in this room. Did you not think I would have others in spare? Also, do note that I wield magic, and but not all of my person is magical, I too am like human, and because of that, I am not bound by law by the gods that forbids me from returning to their halls if I am sundered from what I bring into the mortal world. Now what shall you intend to do to me, force me into marriage like a swan maiden?" The woman then laughed, like a careless child bathing in a pool.

"No man knows my scent, for I have taken away their noses. No man knows the warmth of my body, for I have taken their touch. And no man knows of my body, for I have taken their eyes. You do understand what I speak to you, Bersi?" she said, with eyes as fierce as the man does, and fiery as the sunset.

"You know of who I am, and what I am like, and the response I will give to you. I don't like repeating myself, but I will gladly repeat it to you if you wish," said the man, whose eyes remain fierce, to challenge the woman's gaze.

The woman smiled as if she has become curious of his strange ways. "Defiant to the end, I see. All others who have come here to seek treasure have lost their faith upon themselves confronting my Fláráðrsormr Gullgaeta. But how can you challenge me? That spirit of yours? I am Dvergr, do you not know of legends of how we are fond of drink. I am certain I have tasted that before, and in fact have given it to the hag myself. What about your dagger? My tools despite being gold, can crush them, and I am no stranger to quarrels. What about the arms and weapons born from the great minds of that City of yours?"

The man did not know how he could challenge her, but could only say what he felt. "I have abandoned it all, to see you here my lady."

The woman turned red, and turned away after hearing him, now apparently aware that she was naked before him. Now only her silver hair that shone like the clouds in a setting sky faced him. "Don't you play with your words; I know what you are after," said the woman. "You only came here to force me to teach you magic."

"I do not wish to force you, but if it is necessary. Although, I doubt that I can force you in any way, I shall try, for you know how I am."

The woman turned her head towards him, and looked at the man with her golden eyes, focusing him as if seeing he was the only thing in this room. Then, an evil grin came upon her, and she licked her lips. "What an interesting head you have there," said the woman, as she snapped her fingers. "Mjölnir!"

The man did not know what was going on, but out of the corner of his eyes, a black rock looking like a barrel came towards him, knocking him down with a single tackle. The man, battered and tired, from all the things that have happened looked at the woman again. She had stepped out of the spring and showed of her lower half, but the steam soon covered her before he could see her full form, and ask her what was happening.

"Looking at me again? What a rude man you are. But I like you and the way you think. I believe you becoming unconscious is a normal occurrence to you now as of late. This makes your head tougher. So you falling down should not be a problem after being struck by Mjölnir should not be of any trouble," she said as she smiled.

"I'm really happy with this. Oh dear, I haven't had a guess in a long time. I guess I need to make clean my home then. So sleep tight Bersi, master of Whitting, for your strange and stubborn thoughts have made you an interest to this Dvergr. Velkomin!"

And with that, the man who is now known as Bersi once again falls to Sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: The Healing**

When he awoke, Bersi saw that he was laid down a bed, which despise the harshness of the North, were warm and soft, and made from the softest straw and wool. The scent was not one he would expect, there was not a trace of time's passing for its warmth and comfort equaled it in its alluring aroma, reminding him of a summer's day in a meadow where white lilies grow under the shade of towering trees. And his pillow and blanket were of equal qualities to his bed, and it bid him nearly back to sleep if not for the humming of a maiden, could he gain the strength to sit up and search for the owner's voice that seem to vanish whenever his eyes became heavy.

And then he saw her. The Dvergr Marian was humming at the table, like happy child playing with her toys. She was with her golden tools, preparing food, Bersi could guess, for there was a cauldron in the hearth, and the fires did it burn to make the water boil. And the black barrel she called Mjölnir moved to and from Marian, for it assisted her with the preparations in spite not being able to speak.

As for Marian, she was no longer bare, for she wore clothes, which was not for the workers of the mines or the smiths of metal and gold. She wore the clothes of old, and presented herself as if she was at peace with it. She wore an apron dress above her gown that reached up to the floor and hid away her feet from his gaze. Upon her chest were brooches and beads, which drew any eyes, and upon her head was a scarf that covered her silver hair, which was worn as a long single braid that reached down her back. And her clothes did hide her figure from him, and made her seem like a different child all together different from the one who bathed in the Spring. Marian hummed, and her feet and body did not still as she was preparing, and soon she came to song again.

_There is not many hare left,_

_But I haven't even wept._

_It's now all skinny and due._

_What in the world should I do?_

_Because there's a man here, far did he roam,_

_And now he's the guest in my home._

_The bed and blanket is old,_

_And I do hope it is not cold._

_It's worn and it stinks of me too._

_What in the world should I do?_

_My hands are clumsy and small,_

_Not good for cooking at all._

_So when you're eating the stew,_

_Please tell me it's good to you._

_It's been such a great long time,_

_And I don't know if there's wine._

_But don't be mean to me please_

_Because my mind won't be in ease._

_Because there's a man here, far did he roam,_

_And now he's the guest in my home._

_What in the world, can I do for you?_

And her self mocking did come to truth, for she cut herself with her knife, and a little whimper came from her lips for a moment. And though, Bersi noticed this and tried to seek her out to aid her, he did not hardly guess that when he stood up he was bare.

Marian saw him and did not look away with her golden eyes. She simply smiled, and said, "Now we're even," and went back to cutting after treating the cut.

In surprise, Bersi took the clothes folded by Marian on a chair, and quickly made himself decent.

"Be at peace, for I cannot see far for my eyes have been strained from all the fine working I have done through all these years," said Marian, and small sigh flowed out from her, and she spoke again. "There is no need for shame for are we not grown man and woman? And I have not seen any exact part of you, though I can see that you are tall and strong man through your outline."

Bersi did not pay attention for he was looking for his possessions, to which Marian spoke, "I have taken them for washing, for your clothes have been worn for far too long even without the bright light of the sun. What little possessions you have are upon that table," and she pointed it in question, and there was everything that Bersi ever had in that bag of his, but not the single one reminded him of home, the White City.

Marian noticed the shadow that has fallen on Bersi. "Prepare yourself. Go to the bath, and bathe in the hot Spring, and the let the gold and jewels give you warmth in the spirit. Any of your questions shall be answered after Supper, so make haste, as so you will not let the food get cold, or let a woman who prepared it for you keep waiting." And Bersi only nodded, and went to the bath, passing of the clunking Mjölnir on the way.

And in the warm waters of the Spring Bersi went, and washed away the dirt and the smell of all that he come upon. The water did hurt him so as it touched his bare skin, and it was here, that he saw for the first time that he was bruised and battered by his journey. The steam wafted into him the smell of ancient and healthy forests that weathered the years and it came upon Bersi like comforting warmth, and the pain of this healing heat of the Spring waters went away, and with the treasure that glowed in the room, they have spirited him back into the good days in the White City, where he was the ward of children, and was loved. But he did not go far back, for he knew what it would bring, for there was one thing that the Spring could not heal was his broken heart. And then he went into the waterfall, and there his returned.

Bersi finished bathing quickly, and made himself dry. Marian called from the other room and asked him if he was finished washing, to which Bersi replied that he did. But before he can robe himself, Marian came into the room, looking concerned. She carried with her a salve in a bottle, and told Bersi to sit down and be still as she will put it upon her. "I will put it on myself," said Bersi, "For it is not well for a lady to do such a task."

But Marian will have none of it, telling Bersi that the salve was magical, and only those who knew how to apply it correctly, would it yield the intended effect of the salve. And Bersi was silenced, and he sat down upon a stool, still bare. Marian then rolled up her sleeves, and dipped two fingers into it. She touched Bersi's body with her fingers, and applied the salvs upon the bruises in movements that he could not wholly understand. And it instantly made him feel a bit better, for it took away the great burning the Spring put upon it. And pleasantness went over Bersi, and went over him greatly, for he was in a stupor, and he became enamored with the warmth of Marian's healing, and the breath that she gave out upon his bare skin, which flowed upon it and made his hair alert of her presence. And as she drew closer, the scent from the bed that Bersi had slept in before was now clear to him, for it was Marian's. It was like the green earth on a summer day, and the sweet scent of the lilies waved into him, every time she passed in front of him. And here, Bersi was made aware of Marian's womanhood, and she in turn, took noticed, but quickly turned away, not saying a word, only that her face bore red a little. But Bersi was not shamed, and after she took her caressing hand from him, did he knew what happened, and he lead out a sigh of his disappointment. However, Marian shook her head, and smiled at him with her freckled face still red, and said, "It is only natural, but am I enough of a woman for you? I am only a Dverger."

Bersi shook his head, and said, "You are woman enough." Marian smiled, but turned away to cover her shame.

"Make yourself decent, for supper is nearly ready," she said, but with a stammer, and went back into the other room, as Bersi complied. And for a moment, he wished the days of living with Marian would not come to an end, but his quest lingered in his mind like poison, and his eyes became fierce once more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: The Promise**

And with the warmth of the fire of the hearth by their side, Bersi ate supper with Marian. But it was only a little, for though the waters of the stew warmed and piqued his taste with the spices of the Dvergr, the hare was nearly bone and the meat was aged, and the potatoes were not enough to fill him. But he ate it still, and was happy, thanking Marian for her work. She smiled, and continuing eating on her own, but what she was eating was smaller than what Bersi had eaten, and she sipped little of the stew that she had cooked, and filled herself with what it could not for old bread. It was as if she had given all her attention to his welfare alone.

He looked at Marian, and she smiled as she ate her supper, prompting Bersi's curiosity. "Is there any reason why you spared my life, and gave kindness and hospitality to me, despite all I have done?"

A confused expression marked Marian's face, putting down her spoon. "Do you really need to question a woman's kindness? Does one really need to have a reason to save someone?"

"Yes," said Bersi.

Seeing the frank reply, Marian sighed and faced Bersi in earnest. She tried to make out the words, but stopped herself. "I do not know myself. But I would guess it is your unyielding personality that drew me to you, and stayed my hand from using you. Perhaps that is the reason, I believe. I just did not know what to do with you, so I spared you. Moreover, if I cannot use you, what is the point of giving you suffering? You are guess, and I know not how the East works, but here in the North, a guest is sacred, and I shall surely treat you well so long as you are here under the mountain."

"If that is true, then can I presume that you will teach me of magic?" said Bersi.

Marian shook her head at Bersi's question. "I cannot teach you of magic, for I don't know ho to teach people. Moreover, have you not spoken of the hag of this matter?" said Marian, and Bersi confirmed her. "If so, then you should know magic is not some tool to be used by Men, especially something that as foolish as vengeance. Magic is like a wisp of smoke, you can try to hold it in your hands, but it can only seem so, for the smoke flies away and becomes one with the air again. Has my body entranced you so that you did not pay attention to my lamentations? Magic is gone hither from the world, and what is left can only be attained through great pain, like walking a hot desert under the vigilance of the Sun of Summer."

"…Or walking a cold desert under the vigilance of the Moon of Wintertime," said Bersi, interrupting Marian, who sighed.

"I admire your perseverance, but even if you such strength to grasp your own form of magic from the shadowy unknown, I do not have the ability to teach others. Moreover, it is not teaching that gains magic, but the lessons one learns on one's own. My tools are passed down from my ancestors, the Dvergrs, descendants of Mótsognir the first Dvergr, formed from the maggots, formed from the blood and bones of Ymir, but I was not taught on how to use them, but I learned it on my own. One can hardly find an ability that is similar to mine in this world, for I alone, learned the ways of magic for many immemorial count of years, and still I am learning, for magic ceases to be in any form for a moment where one could truly comprehend and know what it is. I am sorry, for you I cannot help you with this. It is a folly, and more so, it is an impossibility," said Marian, and a genuine sadness fell upon her countenance, and yet, nothing she said moved Bersi from the fire that burns in him.

He made her pay attention to his fierce glance, and from that moment, his fiery glance forever stirred the cold heart of that Dvergr until both the end of their days.

And she was fixed upon him, as he told he what he had to say. "Have you forgotten of who I am? I came from the East. I came from Academy City. Never mind you teaching me, for I have forgotten even who I am. I can teach myself the ways, and bring you no harm over it; I need only someone to show me to the right path to attain what I need. Never mind the reason for this folly, as you say, for are not great things seem folly to others? Marian, I have taught myself in that city in the East many things, and I have learned for myself the dreams that one chances upon in Death. There is not a man in that city who does not know more of Death than I. Many people believed delving into the end is a folly, but I have come back from it did I not? Marian, the City is the master of the invention of things that are considered folly; you do not need to tell me it is folly, for I shall do it anyway. And of impossibility, that City itself is an impossibility. So, Marian Slingeneyer_ the _Blárungrfljóð, I ask you for the first time, not to teach me, but to be my guiding hand."

Bersi let out his hand to affirm their agreement, and there, Marian looked into her fierce eyes, and the lights of the room made her gaze upon shimmer like a pool of pure Spring being moved by the wind on sunset. And her breath was hot, and every time she tried to utter words, she hesitated, for she did not know what to do, and her hands touched her chest, and felt that it was beating as fast she was touching his bare body near the Spring. She was demurred like a cat, far from the haughty nature that she showed to him before. And Bersi saw this, and Marian immediately tried to speak, but before she could, a far-off sound that Bersi has not heard since leaving the hag's shack, the sound of baying wolves.

"They come hither? It seems that the hag has only hindered them when you left her home," said Marian, as they're talk ended. "I have come to forget that the wolves still linger forth on the outside. Forgive me, for I must slay them, and strengthen my home, lest their master assails it again. We shall speak of your plight again, Bersi," said Marian, and she left with her tools of gold with Mjölnir from the room, and was not seen by Bersi for the entire night. And Bersi slept again.

•••••••••••••••••••

It was before the dawn, but Bersi could not tell, that Marian had returned. And Bersi awoke to an astonishing sight of her and the black barrel Mjölnir. She was bare, as if her body did not know the cold touch of Wintertime, other than the suspenders covered her decency. And yet, Bersi could hardly see any part of her, for she was covered in blood that was not hers. She came into the room, and laid down her bloodied tools of gold upon Mjölnir. She did not speak, as if she could not, and quickly removed what she had worn and went back into the bath. Bersi was no longer ashamed of looking at her bare, for he has already seen her, and she, in turn already seen him, as well. More to that, Bersi's fierce eyes fell into a strange and worried shaped, and followed her towards the bath.

She was already in the pool, and though he saw no mark of injury upon her, there was something wrong with Marian's tired and worn out eyes, as if the days had fallen heavily upon her, and she could no longer take the burden of carrying it upon her shoulders. She sunk her head down, as her hair flowed and floated upon the warm waters of the bath. Bersi sat down and only looked upon her, waiting for her to speak.

She came back up, and looked towards Bersi, unable to speak to him, hesitant, with her golden eyes. Marian did not stay long in the pool, and began drying herself. There, she spoke to him at last, "I have slain them all Bersi, with the aid of Mjölnir to take them down. I have used my golden tools, and made them useless for Pale Wolf's magic ever again."

"You speak of Mjölnir, Thor's Throwing Hammer? How is the thing able to aid you?"

"That is the beauty and price of magic. Mjölnir's power is that of the god of lightning and thunder, and she wields it well, just as she wished, but she has lot to learn before she can control it. She scarcely comes out of the mountain for I forbade her, for her powers are great and mighty, and the village may glance at this place and may hinder us en masse. And I do not wish to bring forth death to them if I can help it, as I am not willing to go to battle with the defenseless and those who I am unable to claim my enemy."

"What of the Pale Wolf? Why is the beast magic?"

"The Pale Wolf is of magic for I had made him that way. I had come upon him as I was set to try to use my magic net, and he was caught by it, and was torn. And yet he lived, but dying. And so, using my magic, I have changed him into the form of a large wolf. It was after much hardship, for changing the living into other living form is not my ken, but he could no longer take his old form so he had to. Filled with magic, he used it well, and once tried to live out his life like a wolf. But it drove him mad. He was to use water as an element in his magic, and the moon gave him great power, but he could only appear in the darkness when it is full. But a strange thing happened, as if the world and its laws and the elements were changed, and only he could feel it. For he was burned on the inside like a great fire was lit inside him, and it fueled the little hate for me and the world inside of him, and drove him into madness. And with this fire, he began to appear in the light as well, and only the hag of the wood feared did he fear, for she had the hatred of all beasts, as well as twilight weakening him to a normal wolf. That is the reason why I came back hither in the twilight, for I was the safest at the time, and surely he would have noticed the slaying. However, from the dead wood to this valley, and at the base of this mountain, he gathered other wolves to his side, and terrorized this part of the cold North, and still doing so. From the moment the fire was birthed inside him, I have called him Fláráðr Fenrisúlfr, for he dwells in a fen filled with the dead."

Bersi's eyes shewed his intrigue, and listened well to her, for magic is a curious thing to him, and ever did it make it shimmer before him in his eyes beyond all the gold in Marian's horde.

And Marian saw his eyes full of awe, and spoke again. "You come to me now for aid, but many others have come to me as well. Before you, the woman that was to be Mjölnir, and before her, the hag that now lives down in the dead wood. Men had come before, but they searched alone for gold and glory, and the fell before the test of the Drake, and I made use of their dying bodies. Do you not see what the price they had paid to me?"

"You know of who I am, Marian. I am willing to pay any price," said Bersi, and anger grew upon Marian's face.

"You are an interesting man, Bersi, but you are stubborn. Don't be so quick to say that you can pay anything without the gold to cover it. You are but a man born from the East, only now having the knowledge beyond your ken and your peers. How can you say of such things? Do you not hold anything dear in your heart? Is revenge blackened it to the point of your own ruination? Answer me Kihara Kagun. Do you know what price you will be paying?" And for a while, they were silent, and Bersi did not notice the tears that built upon Marian's eyes, for he took it for water.

Then Bersi sighed, and spoke. "A long time ago, I paid a heavy price for my actions, but I did not pay for anything with anything material, and in turn, they did not force to pay me double, but still, I paid it with something much more dear. And out there, I must seek the one who is in debt and force payment out of that person. I have already paid a great price, and I am willing to pay any price. That is what I said, Marian." She was angered, and she covered herself before him, thinking of him unworthy of seeing her in a vulnerable and true display. And Marian began to leave him from the bath. But Bersi continued to speak, "But that does not mean, I cannot gain anything before I seek out to pay the debt to be paid."

Marian stopped at her tracks, but before she could do and speak at Bersi, she falls upon the floor, and in alarm, both Bersi and Mjölnir rushed towards her.

"Forgive me Bersi, for I lied to you about my love of spirits and wine. For I cannot hold them even if I tried, but I must, for I had little food, when the Pale Wolf began attacking this part of the North, and I give them most of it your recovery. I am a fool, am I not?" she said with a smile on her face.

There was worry in his eyes, but then a though came to Bersi. "Then, I know what I must do to win your favor," said Bersi, and Marian's eyes widened at what she had realized he will be do.

"No…"

"Indeed, you are a fool," Bersi said. "You are a fool for attacking them in such as a condition. You are a fool for giving me food and shelter, in spite of your person. You are a fool, as big as a fool as I am. We are the same Marian, and I shall not leave you waste, when you alone can give me what I need, and I can give you what you desire, for I know what you longed in your heart."

"You do? I am a fool, for being unable to hide it," she said, and had her arms around him, and Bersi carried that tired and worn body of Marian into her bed, and laid her down as she breathed heavily. He tucked her in, and gestured her to rest. There were tears flowing down upon her face, as if her tired form was being relieved of a great burden.

"Bersi, Bersi, I know of what you will do. Take my weapons, and beware of the magic of the Pale Wolf, for both day and night will not hinder him, only twilight, for his magic is the likeness of Sköll and Hati Hróðvitnisson, and is the master of both day and night, and you will only fall as you did before," she said, as she held out her arms.

"Lay still. It is still twilight; you need not worry. I need only the dagger that I have carried, and the bag that was with me. Once I have slain someone with something poorer than such accommodations, this Pale Wolf shall feel it from me finally, even with magic, for magic is a life on it's own and I shall win too it's favor." He took Marian's hand into his own, and had his lips pressed upon it. And then he took his bag and the dagger, and asked Mjölnir to be his guide and witness to the fen. Before heading off, Bersi turned his head towards the golden-eyed Marian and said, "Marian Slingeneyer, I have many things that I want to know of you."

And then he started, and Marian in reply said, "You will not know of it if you are a dead, so make sure to come back to me."

Bersi's feet did not linger, and with ever fiercer eyes, he spoke as he went away. "You know of who I am."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Marian Slingeneyer**

Marian awoke briefly after Bersi had left, for though the spirit flowed in her veins, the blood of the Dvergr is not easily overcome. She was hot, and her strength has nearly passed, and she would think it good for her to stay in the bed, if not for the warnings that come from far parts of the cave, for she has lived there long, and with her gold, made traps and runes of all manner to foil Men and their greed who had come in search for the horde. But this made her lonely, and had weakened her defenses willingly in order to draw people and trap them in like a mischievous Fey. That is how she had come to be with Mjölnir and the others, though they surprised her for they did not search for her gold instead. It seemed that Men had many surprises in store for her, and was glad to have met Bersi.

But now she was alone again, like before the days of Mjölnir's coming, whither no true companionship could be found wherever she turned her head in her home. She could scarcely recall her parents, and the other little folk, for it was an unnumbered count of years ago. And the race of Dvergr thinned and spread itself too much apart to form bonds of fellowship among them, and did the tools and techniques of their culture and history began to wither from the memory of the world, and she, feared that the time of the Dvergr is at an end and the age of Men was not kind to her and kin.

And Marian felt it burden her heart as she recalled this. In grief, she wanted to stay in the bed for her defenses were strong. But now she remembered that Bersi had slain her Fláráðrsormr Gullgaeta, and her home was wide open to those who know the secret cave. And then she heard it, the scurrying of furry feet and the growling echoing from afar. Wolves have come into her home. Still bare, the weary Marian went away from her bed, and took her golden tools with her, preparing for the battle that was to come.

She went into the room where the Spring was found, and already the air that wafted from entrance of the cave brought out the draught that smelled of blood and the dead. The growling came closer and closer, and she prepared herself for the rush, for she listened on and knew that they were many. And then they came, like the rushing of water, the many wolves poured into the room, and did not linger ever still. They saw the bare flesh of Marian, and lust filled their thoughts, for they wanted to taste her. But Marian stood firm, even if she knew what the light of the wolves eyes meant.

They rushed towards her. But Marian came prepared, for she had come prepared for this. She had gold that filled the room.

"For many years I have lived here, and countless have they come in, from a single person to an entire army. Wolves if you can understand this, do you know how I came upon so many gold here?" With a smile, Marian made a gesture, and then the gold colors of the cave disappeared and were replaced by the color of flesh. Countless bodies of still-living Men fell upon the wolves. In fear, the wolves tried to back away, but the doors that lead back to the hall where the Fláráðrsormr Gullgaeta should have been were covered with piles of Men.

The Men groaned and some screamed, for they know horrors that only a few could imagine, and now they have regained the faculties to express their feelings. However, the Men could not move, for as their master, Marian, was drunk and it too, affected her magic. The weak Men, with all their screams and groaning covered the wolves. The wolves tried to scratch and bite their way out, and though the Men felt and screamed from the pangs of pain they have put upon them, they could not move, for their weary bodies and weight were far too great for them to bear. The wolves would surely die from it.

But Marian did not like their looks from lingering in this room. She took her tool, and walked bare in the walls of Men, who screamed at her presence for they saw of their tormenter once again. But Marian cared not for these Men, for their greed guided them there, and it was only a fitting punishment to her to become the ones they longed for so long as she remained in the world.

She then came upon a wolf, twitching and yelping. "That man promised to return here, then, as well, I must promise to receive him when he comes back. How dare you enter my home and made a mess of it. You shall be made use of as payment to this offense." And though, he was an animal, a great terror shimmered upon its eyes like the Men that surrounded him, and gold covered his sight, and Marian's tool fell upon him.

The room, though in disarray, was once again filled with gold that shone from the light of the flambeus.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: The Bridge Forged by Wintertime**

Without knowing what had transpired in the Dvergr's cave, Bersi and the black barrel continued on towards the fen of the Pale Wolf. They did not have time to spare, for the Dawn will soon catch up to them. But still, running in the deep snow while the dark sky let out its powder was not an easy task. They have passed through a small wood of evergreens, when Mjölnir stopped moving, prompting Bersi to stop as well. And when he turned to look why, before them was a vast and white plane, flat and barren of dead branches nor evergreen shrubs, for it was a bridged forged by the very hands of Wintertime.

It was a river frozen and stilled by the long Wintertime months in the North. Standing on the East bank, Bersi knew that when he looked through the other side, that a rivulet sprung upon it, and opened the mouth towards the fen of the Pale Wolf. There was not a bridge built by the hands of Men for many miles around, and with the black barrel's forward movement, did Bersi know what they must do.

Before Bersi took a step into that white expanse, he kneeled before the black barrel and spoke to it as if its form was still that of Men long ago.

"Mjölnir, I thank you for the aid you have given me against the Pale Wolf back when I left the hag's shack, and the hospitality you and your master you have given me for all this time. But now, we are at the end. From now on, you must stay from helping me, for I cannot win the Dvergr's favor if you were to help me, even if she were to allow it because of me, I will not allow it. Your only purpose is to bear witness on what takes place here. Go back to her when this all ends. Do you understand?"

The black barrel did not move for a while, but then twirled and shivered a bit as a response, where a gentle feeling could be found from it, and Bersi knew what it meant and he smiled. And with quickened pace, the man known as Bersi and the Throwing Hammer Mjölnir, crossed that bridge, for they knew that the bridges of Wintertime were not for crossing, and in the realm of the Pale Wolf they're feet must be ever the quicker than all that he is. And then it came, all around them the bridge began to form what it is meant to do, to split and fall apart, shewing murky rivers beneath it. But Bersi and Mjölnir were quicker than Wintertime, and outpaced the cracking. There, they come to view the other bank of the river, and thought no danger shall befall them if they continued with their pace.

Yet they have forgotten of the Pale Wolf and the magic that surrounds his abode, and when they thought they are far from danger, the waters in the river erupted beneath them. And came rushing towards them as if the Necks have changed into serpents, and with their form wrapped themselves upon them. And the both of them fell upon the cracking bridge, and the cold waters began to lay waste to much of that Wintertime forged. The Pale Wolf was of water, and this was his power, and yet, the fire that burned within him gave vicious character to his magic, and this was the result. The waters pulled the two nearer into the murky deep of the stilled river, where the light of the Sun had yet to clear the way for even it to allow what lies just beneath the surface, for it was dark and foreboding like shadow.

Bersi expected opposition, but did not take into account that the Pale Wolf's magic could be greater than his expectations. He tried to crawl back up, but the strength of the waters pulled him and the black barrel greater each time into the black abyss. But Bersi did not show hesitation, and he took the dagger from his bag, and thoughts floated into his mind into cutting his own ankles, for it was the only thing that waters have grasped. But before Bersi could fell his blade, the black barrel known as Mjölnir began to whirl around in the water like a maelstrom, and wrecked havoc upon the waters that have touched it as well as Bersi, freeing him from his bondage. But the waters were enraged at this, and many waves crashed upon the black barrel, and many times they essayed to take it down into the murky deep.

Bersi was ignored as he alone floated in the remaining ice of that bridge, and he looked towards the struggle of Mjölnir, and knew not what to do. But then a shout came out of the black barrel as it freed itself from the waters again. It was a maiden's voice, and assured Bersi of the Dverger's brief reference to Mjölnir as woman.

"Fly you fool, for you have to live! Fly you fool to keep your promise! Fly you fool. We shall meet again."

The waters began to overwhelm Mjölnir and her maiden voice, and the voice of struggle and drowning rang into Bersi's ears. He turned his back, and took many steps, and glanced not again towards the raging waters. And when his feet had landed upon the banks of the rivers, he heard the crack of thunder and at the edge of his vision the flashing of light. The power of Mjölnir has hewn her vengeance upon the waters of the black river, which now shall be called Blárormrvatn, but Bersi continued on his path, following the rivulets, as the mist and will-o-wisps welcomed him into the fen.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10: Pale Wolf**

In these black woods were the ground was soft by the joining of mud and snow, Bersi recalled Mjölnir, with dagger still in his hands. True were the words of the black barrel, they shall meet again, but in what place Bersi could not guess. Perhaps in the meadow of dear Frejya, the Abode of the Mist, or the real Hel, for surely Bersi felt that it was like that place. In his coat, he stepped into a watery and muddy place in the cold Wintertime as it continued to snow, to seek the fen of the Pale Wolf. And the cold was great as the water from the black river seeped into his skin, and yet he continued forward, guided by the will-o-wisps, never straying even when the Necks play like children at his sides, singing songs of cheer and allure with their lovely voices.

The daybreak is upon him, and the story is come now to the end.

When he came away from the wood the dark wood where the Necks sang, he came upon a small plane, covered in mud and melting snow. The smell was not well for Men, and many times did Bersi cover his nose for he did now want to be overcome by it. He continued stepping forth into the muddy plane, and the mist that shrouded him little, for the will-o-wisps were many, lighting the fen like the stars above. From the light, Bersi could see a large figure before him, shrouded in mists. But it soon could not hide any longer, for the light of the fen was too strong, and daybreak dawned close. Before him was a cairn twice as tall as he was. With the things that he has come upon in the land of the North, this did not surprise Bersi, but still he gripped his dagger tight for he looked upon the cairn's summit.

There, red eyes of fire glowered from the mist, and a grow pierced the twilight, scattering the will-o-wisps, as if to make way for the lord of the domain, the Pale Wolf of the Fen, Fláráðr Fenrisúlfr. It leaped down towards the ground, and Bersi readied himself. But a quick glance at the beast surprised Bersi, for the beast, though pale, was not the same as he was the night he left the hag's shack. The Pale Wolf was still greater than any normal, but it had wasted as if it was starved by Wintertime. The untamed and rugged fur could not hide it, for it showed how much it has wasted away, and now, it only looked as if it was grass that has been overgrown on untended field. But his eyes were as red as the embers of fire, as it was when Bersi first looked at him, and his fangs were still daggers that have tasted blood. A wasted wolf is a greater threat than one that is full.

So the Pale Wolf growled, and his aggression bore through Bersi like a great heat, circling him around the muddy plane of the fen. But Bersi's stance was still prepared for what was to become between them, and did not yield when ever the Pale Wolf tested his resolve with the bearing of fangs and the reaching of his claws. Then there was silence between them, a test to see who would break it with violence, and Bersi's thoughts was filled with anxiety, for the dawn was coming, and that the wolf would then possess the power Sköll, and then his doom would be assured.

But it was not Bersi who broke the silence, for the Pale Wolf breathed out flames from his nostrils, and surprised Bersi for he began to speak.

"To have come at the crossroads of night and day, twilight, just to see me at my weakest, leaving the Svartbarn and her hoard of gold unprotected, sacrificing an ally to the mercy of the Wintertime river, and only bringing a dagger for combat, truly your cunning, fortune, and wickedness is of repute, Bersi Grimmauga, Man of the White City. To do so many and see it through until the end, even when all the reason one has started it for has been lost is a trait that I fight endearing."

Without lowering his guard, Bersi spoke in reply.

"Wickedness? It is in my nature and of my kin, to do deeds that most Men will see as wicked. We are like a field of trees, and many are our roots black, as do I. But I did not do those things because it was evil, but because it is their choosing. Indeed, I have urged the Dvergr to stay in her halls, but surely, you must know of her haughty nature, and she would not be still if she herself did not choose to. This is as well for the Throwing Hammer, for she chose to save me from your witchcraft. And I need not to worry for the both of them, for I know of their strength. If you still think of me as wicked, then so be it. Then, I shall once again do wickedness on this day against you."

Bersi steadied his dagger, but the Pale Wolf just laughed at his reply.

"I am greatly amused, for my thoughts have been correct. Such unyielding determination, is it brought from the trust of others, or the apathy of their dooms? I see now, Bersi Grimmauga that we are truly the same."

A confused look came upon him, but his grip as still ever strong on his dagger, for he did not know what treachery the Pale Wolf had in store.

"Searching for magic? A fool you are. It is not well for magic to be searched by the likes of Men ever, for it too has a will of its own. It is a part of Nature, it gives but it also takes away. If you want magic, your life is forfeit. You do not wield magic; you merely bound yourself to it."

"And why should I trust your words? Wolf, you act like a fox more than a wolf," said Bersi. The Pale Wolf growled at his accusation, but quickly calmed down, and then became glad.

"I suppose I do act like a fox, I admit. Let me tell you a tale, and I shan't prolong it, for your benefit for twilight will soon end, and your actions will be all for not. Do you know of how Marian Slingeneyer? Yes, I suppose you do, for you were welcomed into his home and more, the first man to be welcomed, not all the other men who came into her realm before you have been seen since. I will remind you that she is a master of the body, and her golden tools gives her the power to wrought them in anyway she desires. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

Bersi only raised an eyebrow as he heard this story, continuing to grasp the blade.

"I see that you had some suspicion of where the men went. And it seems that it doesn't matter to you what she has done, for you are determined to end me and win her favor. Forget about attaining magic, the maidenhood of the Dvergr must be sweet to the loins indeed." The Pale Wolf laughed, but all other things in the fen, even the wind, did not answer him with their own sounds.

"I can smell it on you boy, her scent, and I must presume she knows that of yours as well, though I presume that both of you have knowledge of each other," said the Pale Wolf, laughing once again.

"Vulgar beast!" said Bersi, his eyes were as fierce as before, but he did not shook, not show any sign of his agitation other than his voice, but the Pale Wolf ignored his rage.

"Vulgar?" said the Pale Wolf. "That whench is the vulgar one here, Grimmauga. For what she does to the bodies of the breathing is beyond wickedness. They are beyond the span of time, and ever under the will of the Dvergr, and the shall it know until Time has come upon their forms. Is this not vulgar before the sight of gods? And yet, why am I asking you this, for long has your mind been captured by the Dvergr."

The wolf circled around him, inspecting his form, but Bersi kept on with his nerves, and gripped the dagger with his hand.

"Still determined I see. I cannot break your resolve. But I must continue on speaking, for you alone shall hear of it. Did I not say that were men who have come to her realm? Knowing of that black barrel as woman, I presume that you know that women have also come upon her realm? Once there was a woman in the village of Men. Her beauty was like that of Freyja, and though her heart belonged to only one, she was beloved by all, and all had knowledge of her. In shame, she fled the village to seek out magic from the Dvergr, for what purpose none knew, but tears were cried, hearts were broken, and resolves were forged."

Bersi as he heard the Pale Wolf's tale seemed to recall something important but he could not form it in his mind. Then, he forgot about it, as a realization came forth before him, and faced the wolf with a knowing look of surprise.

"You suspect it Grimmauga? Yes, with those fierce eyes of yours ever watchful, and from the White City, whose knowledge is beyond all other nations, it is only in your character to suspect so quickly. Yes, the beloved of the woman search her far, beyond the dead wood, where the hag lived, where he can only be repelled by her utter presence, and indeed, even in the realm of the Dvergr. But his trespass was not unnoticed, and he was caught with a golden net that tore his body asunder, and at last, in the presence of Death, the Dvergr mocked him, and used her tools in ways that even the beast could not wholly understand—she created a monster. But still did he search for her, but there was great fire in him that he could not understand, and all the hatred and anger welled up inside him, eating him slowly. It was magic that he did not wanted, but he was forced to use it to quell the great heat inside, and so, for then on, the beast reigned terror upon the dead wood up to the mountain of the Dvergr. From Wintertime until Spring, at all hours other than twilight, the great heat will not subside until he falls or his revenge is fulfilled."

Bersi was utterly surprised, and his grip on the blade lessened, for before him was a tragic being, and now knew the words that he repeated to him held meaning. His lips tremble trying to give a response, but only his breath escaped it.

"Yes, we truly are the same. I see it in your eyes. You too have lost loved. This mouth has tasted blood, and your hands have touched it. I am bound by magic, and you are willing to bind yourself with it. I am your equal, not because I have felt that you made it so that the odds are the same for the both of us, but because of the great tragedy surrounding us. We live in tragedy, and surely, even if I did not bind my dying breath to curse you, we will die by it as well. Equal in strength, equal in chances, equal in death, in this cold snow shall be our rain, this muddy fen be our field, and this cairn be our graves."

Bersi renewed his resolve as the Pale Wolf spoke. There was no question about it, for long did he know what he would intend to do, when he gains magic and after he has used it for his purpose.

"Indeed," said Bersi. "We are equal. Indeed, equal for the desire of death. Unperturbed by the broken hearts and the unnumbered tears that we shall birthed by our resolve. Many are our sins, and thus we shall carry it even in our hour of redemption until our ruination comes. Marian, Mjölnir, I will now have Wintertime and this beast bear witness to my resolve. Vengeance shall be mine one day."

The wolf smiled and spoke.

_The red dawn rises and begins the day_

_In this fen, where the water spirits play._

_Let the flowers grow, where we now stand,_

_With blood, we shall water this dead land._

_Death is upon us!_

_Death is come to us!_

With that, the Pale Wolf growled one last time, and Bersi shouted as well, and it echoed throughout that early morning. The snow stopped, and all the world seemed to hold its breath.

With daggers of yellow bared, and with fire and smoke flowed form his eyes and nostrils, the Pale Wolf leapt high and was borne into the air to catch unawares Bersi's anticipations. But Bersi leapt to the side his whole body, for the mud slowed down his feet. But he did not care if he carried filth as he did. And the Pale Wolf again leapt, and each time he essayed to claw and bite him, Bersi simply moved out of his way. But the game of leaps were at an end, as Bersi gave the Pale Wolf shorter breaths and worn out limbs. His leanness grew greater.

The Pale Wolf persisted however, and leapt again, but this time, Bersi will not alone simply move from his side. The Pale Wolf, again, leapt to fell his fangs on his flesh, but Bersi moved the side and cut the Pale Wolf with his dagger. However, the Pale Wolf did not yield, and essayed again to attack him, and each time, Bersi cut him. In all, Bersi had cut the Pale Wolf eight times, but this was not simply a matter of chance, for he cut the Pale Wolf's hamstrings and the flesh behind his knee. As his size was great, there was no missing in Bersi's movements, truly this was the mind that was honed from the years in the White City.

The Pale Wolf was crippled. He stumbled and fell into the mud and snow, and his eyes grew with great fires of anger. As Bersi stood large before him to deal the blow of mercy, the Pale Wolf's anger sprang up into a great fire. His jaw opened wide and buried his teeth into Bersi's right hand, which held the dagger. It was the final struggle. The wolf cared not for the dagger that stuck out from his upper jaw after biting him. But his doom was sealed, as blood from his cuts will soon take its toll, and he will not bring victory for himself against Bersi even after biting him down, for no longer did he have the strength to tear him apart with bear strength.

And a great calm fell upon the both of them, and for the first time, the fire from the Pale Wolf's eyes flickered like a candle at its last seconds. But he was still living, and Death took long to take him away.

Breaths from the Pale Wolf can still be seen, and even with his mouth pierced by the dagger, words can be formed from him. And then he spoke.

"I see now what form of magic will form when you have come upon it yourself. You will not be defeated by those who are greater than you, only those who are equal to you will you be felled. Its origin is in your resolve once again. Great will it be, and shall surely drive you to the uttermost of your goal, but it will be like a wine that you cannot stop drinking, and in the back of your mind shall be the face and scent that you once treasured and desired dearly, and have given up for the mindless pursuit of vengeance. This is not a curse, nor a prophecy of your doom, but what you are now, Bersi Grimmauga," said the wolf. "Do it now, I have grown weary of all this. It is in my hope that we shall meet again, tragic hero."

Bersi stayed silent, but his eyes in resolve, Bersi took his foot, and with his great strength and in great pain, wrestled from the Pale Wolf's clutches his hand and dagger, rending away his upper jaw from him. With the ninth stroke of the dagger, the Pale Wolf was now sent into restful sleep, the fire no longer burning from his eyes and the great heat no longer fueling his heart.

The dawn has now risen, and the blood of both Bersi and the Pale Wolf watered the fen. Alone for many moments did he lie beside him, before he took the cairn stone by stone, and laid it down upon the body of the wolf. And ever since that day, no longer did the will-o-wisps gathered around the fen and the nearby woods, neither did the Necks' songs were ever heard, as well as the baying of wolves ever echoed in that vast valley and troubled the now-empty shack of the hag again.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

And thus ends the tale of the meeting of Bersi known as the man with the fierce eyes, and Marian Slingeneyer the Dvergr. There were no meanderings and no protractions, no distractions and no false devices, no characters misplaced and no bonds contrived, all were necessary to give life and depth to the tale that has passed. It was a tale of magic, where magic still remains like a fleeting cloud in the sky in a Spring day. It was a tale of a man who searched for magic, though only found its favor, for magic will bind one to chains ever until the end of one's life. There were no children with powers to play with, no Men with grand magic for grand plots, just the infinite mystery of magic that seeps into the corners of the world.

It was a tale of magic indeed, but the Man will not gain magic on his own on that day, for long will be the days that he will learn it for himself. The Dvergr, his dear companion, only acting as a guide to a force only a Dvergr could understand, for to her, it is like a diamond with many facets stuck to the rock, and only a few she could ascertain in the dark.

Thus, a new day dawns for Bersi and Marian in Spring:

Bersi packed up his bags and wore a thick coat with him, as he prepared to leave the Dvergr's home again. Many months have passed since the utter cold that Wintertime spelled, and yet the snow kept falling outside, though now less and less as the days of the season waned.

Marian called out to him, she was bare, though Bersi has gone accustomed to it, but wore an apron. In her hands were tools of gold, but it was for cooking.

"You're leaving again?" said Marian, "You barely touched your meal. And I went through all that to cook you venison. Stay home and keep me company for a moment before you leave."

Bersi opened the door, and the cold air flew into her home. He turned towards her and said, "This is the only good time for me to leave. The snow falls little, and the sun can be seen at least. We need to get supplies, and I cannot have my guide walk around with her eyes unfocused."

"You do not need to do this on my account," said Marian.

"No, I insist. It is for your sake," said Bersi. He stayed a moment for a silent and then spoke again. "Don't worry, I shall return to you."

Marian pouted like a child, befitting of her figure, while Mjölnir trembled on its base.

"Can you believe my dear student, Mjölnir? Leaving without finishing what he has started the nerve. Fine then, leave and come back to finish this meal, I know of ways of preserving it, and then you shall lie on the floor instead of lying on the bed as punishment."

Bersi merely nodded his head in acceptance, and with a calm face, stepped forward into the snowy plane. But then, Marian once again called for his name and then he turned towards her in turn.

"If your revenge is over and you've survived and have nothing left, you can come back to me."

Bersi did not reply with his usual responses. He gave a smile that was full of things that was not happiness, and closed the door to Marian's home and returned once again to the world of Wintertime.

_The sun sinks and rises again and after winter follows the spring._

ᚹᛖᛏᚱᛏᛁᛞ


End file.
